


Falling's Only Natural

by natural_by_design



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Librarian AU, M/M, Modern AU, Pining and fluff, Shiro's a little shit, Soulmate AU, domestic klance (before they're really klance), literally just keith and lance being dumb, slow burn (?)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-07-23 04:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natural_by_design/pseuds/natural_by_design
Summary: Keith and Lance have been friends for years. Nothing more, nothing less.At least, that's what they tell themselves.





	1. In Which Keith Sighs Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, babes! It's forever and a half past when I meant to post this, but I guess...better late than never?
> 
> This first chapter is mainly meant to be an introduction to the vague premise of the plot and all that good stuff, so sorry that it's relatively short. I've noted that this fic will have ten chapters, but that's just a guess that will likely change as we go, so don't rely on that set amount too much.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Enjoy!

In the grand scheme of things, his problems were insignificant. Selfish and dumb compared to what others went through.

That didn’t stop Keith Kogane from being really fucking pissed.

“Why,” he growled. “Is there a pile of books on the floor?”

“I’m sensing some anger,” the man in front of him said slowly. “Take some deep breaths with me. In--”

“You’re damn right I’m angry, Lance.” Keith took a deep breath anyway, but he made sure to keep his glare strong. “It’s literally your job to take care of these.”

“Yes, but--” Lance paused, a frown slashing across his tan skin. “I don’t know how to argue with you about this.”

Keith closed his eyes briefly. “Then don’t, you idiot. Just put the books away.” It’d been a long day, and he wasn’t currently mentally equipped to deal with this.

Lance McClain was, without a doubt, one of the most infuriating people that Keith had ever met. They’d known each other for years, had somehow ended up working together, and were friends with the same group of people.

They also happened to be soulmates.

Despite all this, Keith found him exasperating at the best of times.

“This is not the best of times,” he informed Lance with a scowl, to which he received a confused look. “You still haven’t moved. Start moving.”

Lance huffed. “You aren’t in charge of me.”

Keith considered this. “Yeah, but I know things about you that Pidge would  _ love  _ to get her hands on. Like that one time when--”

“Okay, alright.” Lance crouched down to gather the books into his arms. “You big bully.”

Keith crossed his arms, fighting the instinct that told him to steady Lance as he wobbled slightly while standing back up. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Whatever, grouchy. I’m going to go shelve these, and then we can leave. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith sighed. “Okay.”

“Great.” Lance was smiling now and Keith sighed again, reinforcing the mental wall between their minds. When Lance was happy, he had a tendency to broadcast it. That meant that, as a result, Keith received those feelings. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start smiling too, and then they’d be smiling together, and then the others would begin imagining a relationship between the two of them that they didn’t have, and it would just dissolve into a mess.

So Keith cut it off at the source.

They kept the wall up almost all the time, so Keith knew that his reinforcements didn’t register with Lance. He couldn’t prevent the slight guilt that twinged through his chest, however, and he turned away to hide his grimace.

“I’ll be right back,” Lance sang and darted off for the shelves, leaving Keith standing by himself.

The two of them were among the seven main librarians at the West Branch of the Altean public library. Altea, a city about an hour to the north of Seattle, was fairly small, but still large enough to have relatively well-staffed branches.

Keith loved his job--he really did. He usually left interacting with the patrons to the others and busied himself with shelving and bureaucratic work, but he wasn’t  _ against _ talking to people who came to him for help (despite what Lance might say). He’d always had a fondness for losing himself in a good book, which meant that he’d all but jumped to accept when his brother, Shiro, had told him about the job opening.

“Ready to go?” Lance asked, walking back toward him and interrupting his thoughts.

Keith looked up, startled. “No way you shelved those books properly that quickly.”

Lance winked. “I’m magic.” He brushed past Keith to push open the door to the staff room, emerging a moment later with his jacket and bag in his hands. When he noticed Keith’s disapproving glare, he sighed. “Pidge can deal with it tomorrow, doll face. I want to go home.”

“Or you could just deal with it now,  _ snookums _ .” Keith replied, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration.

Lance’s expression softened. “I’m just messing with you, man. Go grab your stuff and let’s go home.”

Keith sighed and did as he was told, locking the staff room door behind him when he walked back out into the main body of the library. They finished turning off the computers and the lights together, then stepped outside into the cool night air. Lance locked the doors and Keith stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, inhaling deeply. It was around 9:15 and their branch of the library was on a street with a coffee shop, a bakery, a thrift store, and a small park--which meant that there were still plenty of people bustling around.

Lance came to stand beside him and held out a hand. “Shall we, darling?”

Keith rolled his eyes but unearthed his right hand anyway, lacing his fingers through Lance’s.

The two of them weren’t romantically involved, and they never had been. They knew that they weren’t platonic soulmates--there had definitely been a spark of attraction between them when they’d first met. That being said, they hadn’t really connected in  _ that  _ way other than the unexplainable feelings that the magic urged them to have. All the same, having physical contact of whatever sort with the other calmed a need in both of them, so they had learned to just roll with it.

They started walking down the sidewalk, Lance lightly swinging their hands. Keith let him, pretending not to notice.

“Keith,” Lance said after they had been walking in silence for several minutes.

He didn’t continue, and Keith looked over at him. “What is it?”

Lance shook his head. “Never mind, it’s dumb.” Keith squeezed his hand in a gentle reprimand, and he exhaled. “I was wondering if you really are mad about the books.”

Keith smiled, then forced it back before Lance could look his way and see it. “No, Lance, I’m not mad. It’s been a long week for both of us, is all, and I’m sorry.”

Lance shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He smiled slightly, his head tipping toward Keith’s. “I should have left them out for Pidge to deal with.”

Keith snorted. "She would have murdered you."

Lance hummed and said, with complete confidence, “You would protect me.”

If Keith’s cheeks were suddenly hot, it was only because the exertion of walking was catching up to him. “Don't be so sure.”

“Don’t be so mean,” Lance shot back, and Keith let a thread of his amusement trickle through to brush against Lance’s mind.

Lance grinned. “So you are actually capable of appreciating a joke?”

“Sure,” Keith shrugged. “You just don’t tell any good ones.”

Lance tugged him to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, his mouth falling open. “Remind me again why we’re still friends?”

Keith’s eyes darted to their joined hands, then away. “Hunk wanted you to find somebody new to pester.” He began walking again, towing Lance along after him.

The other man hurried to catch up, his long legs eating up the distance between them. “That is  _ not true _ , Kogane. You came up to me at the beginning of seventh grade and asked if I believed in aliens.”

Keith smiled at the memory. He’d heard Lance and another boy--who he later learned was Hunk--talking about a book that Lance had apparently finished reading the week before. Keith, who had only just moved to Washington from Texas, overheard them and thought that he might be able to join the conversation, as he’d recently finished reading the same book. He’d really meant to start off with something that made him seem smart and funny, but first contact with Lance’s mismatched blue eyes had left him scrambling for literally anything to say.

His brain had decided on aliens.

Lance still hadn’t let him live it down (this had happened eleven years ago), but Hunk had been nice enough to welcome the awkward new kid into the warm embrace of his friendship, and that was that.

Privately, Keith didn’t think it was a coincidence that he had happened to simply stumble across his soulmate, but Lance insisted that it was just a happy accident of fate.

_ Sounds fake, _ Keith had said in response the first time Lance had busted out the “fate” line.  _ But okay. _

_ You believe in aliens, _ Lance had replied.  _ Leave me alone. _

“Any big plans for the weekend?” Lance asked, bringing Keith back to the present. “It’s Friday night, man. You’ve got to start ingesting those end-of-the-week vibes now.”

“Same as you, I imagine.” Keith said dryly. “Sleep all day tomorrow, go to work on Sunday.”

Lance pulled a face. “Nope. We’re going on a plate.”

Keith turned his head to stare at him. “But sleep.”

“Plate,” Lance said firmly.

“Plate” was a term coined by Lance--of course--and he was ridiculously proud of it. It was short for “platonic date”, a concept that Lance was absolutely in love with despite Keith insisting (numerous times) that just asking to hang out would get him the same results.

“Lance,” Keith said on a sigh. “Can’t we just stay home and watch a movie, or something?”

Lance’s mouth twisted to the side while he considered it. “Fine. But I get to choose where we get dinner from.”

“Or,” Keith hedged. “We could bribe Hunk into coming over and cooking for us.”

Lance shook his head. “I’m ordering chinese from that one place that gives us twelve packets of soy sauce.”

Keith exhaled through his nose. “Fine.”

Lance smiled.

The two of them leased an apartment together, because it made them look good. Their landlord was a sucker for anything romantic, and two Settled soulmates of the romantic variety fit that bill pretty well. They hammed up the couple act whenever they saw him, and he held them in slightly higher esteem.

For reasons unknown, soul-bond markings established themselves in the eyes. Every person born with a soulmate, whether platonic or romantic, was also born with two different eye colors--like magical heterochromia. There was no way to predict which would be which, but one eye would be the baby’s natural eye color, and the other would be the natural eye color of their soulmate. In Keith’s case, his left eye had been his own indigo-gray, and his right had been Lance’s piercing blue.

Once the two of them had met, their eyes had completely reverted back to their natural colors--a process known as the Settling that took about a week to complete.

Lance and Keith had decided that they were better off friends by the time the Settling had ended. Hunk still insisted that they had been too young and hadn’t given each other a proper chance, but Keith and Lance had gotten pretty good at tuning him out.

“It’s cold,” Lance said now, tugging his hand out of Keith’s to wrap his arms around himself.

Keith sighed. “You’re wearing a down jacket, Lance. If anything, I should be the one complaining about the cold.” Despite his words, he tugged open his messenger bag to pull out the scarf that he had started carrying with him as soon as the first day of October had passed. Lance, born in and a frequent visitor of Cuba, thrived in warm weather and started to complain about frostbite if the temperature dropped below 55℉.

Keith passed the scarf to Lance, who eagerly wound it around his neck. “Here, you wimp.”

Lance beamed at him. “Thanks, gorgeous.”

Keith flushed and didn’t answer.

They walked the rest of the way in near silence, Lance occasionally breaking into an upbeat hum or whistle before quieting down again. As they entered the lobby of their apartment building, he looked over at Keith with a smile. “So, honey, are we sharing your bed or mine tonight?”

Keith raised an eyebrow, unphased. “Yours has more space, so I guess it depends on what you have planned.”

The clearing of a throat from their left made them turn, pasting expressions of surprise on their faces as they went. “Boys!” Ed Lostner, their landlord, cried with his “affectionate” smile firmly in place. “I’m as game for a little hanky-panky as the next guy and you know that I love you two, but can we maybe keep it PG down here?” He subtly gestured a few feet to his right, where three small children were huddled together and talking.

“Mr Lostner!” Lance replied, practically oozing confidence and charm. “It’s such a nice surprise to see you down here, and we’re so sorry to bother you. We’re just planning a good ol’ session of Netflix and cuddling.”

Lostner winked, and Keith took a small step closer to Lance. “Of course, kiddos. I’ll leave you to it, then. Have a good night!”

“You too, Ed.” Keith said with a small smile. Lance snorted quietly and grabbed Keith’s hand, towing him toward the elevators.

“What, no stairs tonight?” Keith teased as they waited for the doors to open, and Lance shrugged.

“I didn’t feel like getting angry over Lostner watching your butt as we went up them.”

Keith tried to ignore the heat that rose in his cheeks. “I think he has better things to do than watch my ass move away from him.”

“I certainly don’t,” Lance replied, causing Keith to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

Nobody was really sure what to make of Ed Lostner. He had a habit of calling Keith and Lance “kiddos” despite being thirty to Keith’s twenty-five and Lance’s twenty-four, but he was kind--if a bit weird.

Lance was also convinced that he had a thing for Keith.

Keith ignored that theory, mostly because he already had a man in his life--and making sure that Lance didn’t do stupid shit was a full time job.

Once they’d made their way to their apartment and Lance had collapsed on the sofa, his sock-clad feet hanging over the edge, Keith sat down on the floor with a sigh.

“Hey, Kogane,” Lance said. “Did you just break?”

“Leave me alone,” Keith grumbled. “I’m tired.”

“So go to bed,” Lance replied, not unreasonably.

Keith shook his head. “If I do that, I have to brush my teeth and shit. That’s a lot of work.”

“I think you’ll survive.” Lance said.

“I don’t know about that.” With another sigh, Keith heaved himself back to his feet and shuffled over to the couch. After shoving Lance’s ankles out of the way, he sat down with a small huff of air.

“Wow,” Lance said, watching him. “What a superhuman amount of effort that must have took.”

“You joke, but you’re completely right.” Keith leaned back, letting his eyes slide closed.

“Keeeith,” Lance whined. “You can’t steal my spot and then go to sleep.”

“I didn’t steal your spot,” Keith mumbled. “You’re still sitting in it.”

“My legs need space too,” Lance grumbled back.

“Your legs can deal with it,” Keith said, even as he placed Lance’s feet in his lap.

“This is cozy,” Lance said mildly after no more than a minute of silence had passed.

“Yeah, it is. Stop ruining it by talking.” Keith tried to say. His words slurred, ruining the effect.

“Well, if you’re going to be an ass about it…” Lance’s words weren’t all that clear either. “Give me a foot massage, Keith.”

“No,” Keith said, reaching for Lance’s right foot. He’d only just dug his fingers into the sock-covered flesh when the gravity tugging at his eyelids overwhelmed him and he drifted off to sleep.

  


He woke to the smell of coffee and something burning.

At the other end of the couch, Lance groaned. “Keith, stop destroying our food.”

“RIght here, Lance.” Keith grunted. “Besides, you live for my muffins.”

Lance cracked his eyes open, shifting his head to look over at Keith. “If it’s not you, then who the hell--”

“Good morning, children.” A familiar voice sang. Keith groaned and closed his eyes again. “Time to get up.”

“No to the nope.” Lance mumbled. Keith opened his eyes to watch him. “If you’re here, then you’re here before work, which means that it’s six in the morning. Please leave.”

Shiro appeared in front of them, a mug in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t actually want to disturb you two, not when you looked so comfortable.” He eyed the way that Keith’s arms rested protectively across Lance’s ankles. “My coffee machine broke, and I was jonesing for a fix.”

“There are a dozen other places you could’ve gone, you absolute human disaster.” Keith lifted a hand to rub his face. “What are you even failing to cook?”

Shiro’s gaze moved over the back of the couch, toward their small kitchen. “I think they started as eggs.”

Lance sighed long and loud, then pushed himself up and slouched into the kitchen. There was a clattering sound, then the splash of running water. “I’ll make you breakfast, Shiro, if you want to stay.”

Keith’s eyes opened wide at that. Even the warm, gravelly tone of Lance’s morning voice couldn’t distract him from the horrifying words. “No, it’s too early to deal with him for an extended period of time.”

Shiro smirked, slurping from his mug.

“Lance,” Keith begged.

Lance hummed. “Well, now I think that he should stay just to spite you.”

Shiro gave Keith a look of fake distress. “What happened to brotherly love, Keith?”

“It walked out the door when you walked in at  _ six a.m. _ ” Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bed. Lance, please make him leave soon.” He shoved himself up off the couch and plodded toward the door that led to his bedroom.

“No promises,” Lance sang, sounding much more awake now that he had someone to tease.

“I hate you both,” Keith muttered.

Just before he shut his door, he heard Shiro laugh. “It’s always nice to know how much he cares.”


	2. In Which Keith Only Sighs Once and It's a Damn Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk and...that's about it.
> 
> It's not very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, pals! Hi! I hope you're all doing well! I'm posting this chapter late at night while hopped up on sugar, so sorry if it gets a little wonky. I just wanted to shoot out a quick apology because wow, I'm a complete liar (yay!). The first chapter--which I called short--is actually like twice as long as this one, so that's a little bit of an oof. I think I'll try to make them longer than this on average in the future, but I guess we'll see how it all shapes up. I aaaaalso lied about introducing the rest of the space squad; that doesn't happen yet (oops). It just didn't work out with the pacing of this one, but THEY WILL DEFINITELY BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.  
> Maybe.
> 
> Enjoy!

Oddly enough, Lance found himself insisting that Keith should go on a date.

With a man.

Who was not him.

Keith was resistant, because he was stubborn like that, but Lance had more than enough practice with being stubborn right back.

“Keith,” he said patiently, leaning back in his chair. The two of them were behind the library’s information desk, which faced out toward the doors that led out of the library. “It’ll be good for you.”

“This has to be against the law,” Keith grumbled. He was leaning against the edge of the counter, which came up to the bottom of his ribs, his own chair abandoned next to Lance. “My soulmate encouraging me to ask somebody else out?”

Lance spun in a lazy circle, tucking his legs beneath him to avoid hitting Keith. “Don’t think about it like that, then. I’m just a friend, encouraging you to try and find happiness.”

Keith looked over at him, his mouth twisted in an odd grimace. “Who says that I’m not happy as I am, Lance?”

“Me,” Lance said baldly. “I’ll say it again; some action would be good for you.”

Keith turned back to looking at the doors, his shoulders tense. “You’re the one always talking about it.”

Lance shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I’m always down for a good time. But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”

“No kidding,” Keith mumbled. “I said no, Lance.”

Lance planted his feet on the floor, stopping the movement of his chair. “Can I get a solid reason why?”

“Shouldn’t the fact that I refused be enough?”

Lance smiled at that. “It is enough. But I know you, Keith, probably better than any other person on this planet. I don’t think you’d be as miserable in a relationship as you’re pretending.”

Keith huffed, turning his head slightly in Lance’s direction. “I’m not  _ pretending _ .”

“Aren’t you?” Lance rolled forward until his knees were nudging the backs of Keith’s. “Let’s make a deal, then.”

Keith harrumphed. “You can’t dare me into dating someone. That’s not a basis for a healthy relationship. Besides, you’re missing the obvious.”

Lance scooted closer. “And that is?”

“Who’s going to date someone who already has their romantic soulmate? That’s weird.”

“We could pretend to be platonic.”

Keith made a choking noise in the back of his throat before turning around, presumably to confront Lance about whatever it was that he had an issue with this time. His plans were derailed, however, when he tripped over Lance’s knees and did a little stumble-collapse into Lance’s lap, his hands reaching out to clutch at the arms of Lance’s chair. “What the  _ hell _ , Lance.”

Lance laughed, wrapping his arms around Keith and pulling him closer. “Watch your language. This is a public space.”

“Yeah, and it’s also where we work,” Keith said, struggling to get out of Lance’s hold. “Let me go, brat.”

Lance pouted, Keith’s warmth seeping into him. His other half was wearing a short sleeved t-shirt today (black, of course), and the knitted fabric was thin enough to let Lance feel all of the excessive body heat that Keith radiated. He was literally a human heater, and Lance--perpetually chilly--was incredibly thankful. “What if I just don’t?”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to help your customers from there,” a new voice said. Lance leaned around Keith to see the owner of it, and met the amused eyes of a man who couldn’t have been much older than either of them. His eyes, a soft brown and a dark hazel, were set in smooth dark skin and were framed by delicate cheekbones and dark eyebrows that gave his whole face a pretty, almost feminine look.

Lance beamed at him, pinching Keith in the ribs. “How can we help you, sir?”

The man smiled back, his eyes lingering on Keith in a way that had Lance pinching his side again. “Yeah, uh, I’m visiting Altea for a couple of days, and I don’t really know my way around these parts.”

“These parts,” Keith said softly. “Yeehaw.” His pale skin immediately flushed as Lance snorted with laughter, and he covered his face. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

“Cowboy Kogane cannot be denied,” Lance hooted.

Keith shrank back against Lance’s chest, lowering his hands and giving the patron a sheepish look. “This is incredibly unprofessional. I’m sor--”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said with an easy smile. “Would one of you be able to help me find a couple of reference books?”

Lance gasped, pushing Keith up off his lap. “Keith would love to show you! He was just talking to me about...reference books.”

Keith groaned.

The man smiled. “Convenient.”

“Oh yeah,” Keith replied, straightening his shirt and stepping out of the circle that the information desk formed. “ _ Real _ convenient.” With a final departing glare at Lance, he gestured for the man to follow him and stalked away.

Lance watched them go with a smirk. Keith was handsome enough when he wasn’t brooding (which was always). One look at his genuine smile, complete with dimples, would catch someone’s attention in a heartbeat. Keith never seemed to realize the power his smiles had on people, but Lance knew.

Lance was good at knowing things.

A lot of those things pertained to Keith, true, but that didn’t stop him from knowing them. When he cared about somebody, Lance had a habit of “collecting” details about that person, effectively creating a map of their personality in his head. It was the same way that everybody got to know each other, he supposed, but he prided himself on being methodical about it, like he was solving a puzzle.

Lance was also good at knowing assorted random trivia. Not only did it help him  _ kill it _ at Jeopardy, but learning seemingly insignificant things calmed him down when he was in a particularly high-stress mood.

So yeah, those pieces of trivia were always good conversation starters. But then people would ask about his eyes (because curiosity had a habit of winning out over manners) and the conversation would inevitably turn to Keith and then Lance would get that  _ warmth _ in his chest that blossomed whenever he thought about his soulmate.

The same  _ warmth _ , in fact, that was blossoming now.

With a shake of his head, Lance turned his attention back to the doors. Nobody was coming through them and he sighed, standing up to lean against the counter in the same spot where Keith had been. He loved working at the library, he did, but sometimes a guy needed a little bit of action.

The sound of voices nearing him a few minutes later had him spinning excitedly. Keith and the man were returning, the man holding several books and Keith saying something with his familiar deadpan look.

The man laughed as they reached the information desk, and Lance grinned. “Find everything you need?”

Keith gave him a wry look. “I do know how to do my job, Lance. Although, I will say that I’m surprised you didn’t die of boredom.”

Lance clutched at his chest. “It was a very close call. If you had been even half a minute later, you would have found my lifeless body on the floor.”

“I’m sure.” Keith said before turning to the other man. “It was nice to meet you, Santos.”

The man--Santos--smiled back at him. “You, too. Thanks for the help.” With a final smile at Lance, he turned and walked for the self-checkout stations.

Lance sighed and elbowed Keith. “Go ask him out.”

Keith looked at him, his eyes wide. “No.”

“Go ask him out, or I’ll do it for you.”

“You fucking won’t, you snail.” Keith hissed back. “I’m a grown man. Let me make my own relationship decisions, please.”

It was the “please” that made Lance hesitate. It wasn’t like Keith was never polite--Shiro would chop off his own head before letting his younger brother go through life without frequent “please”es and “thank you”s. All the same, Lance was used to Keith deploying his manners sarcastically, especially when he was around his close friends and family.

There was something about this “please”, sarcastic undertone aside, that made Lance take a small step closer to Keith and scan him from head to toe.

Keith sighed. “Now what are you doing?”

“Is something wrong?” Lance asked softly.

Keith smiled. It was brief, but genuine. “I’m fine, Mom.” His eyes flicked toward Santos, who was now heading toward the exit. “I’m just not attracted to him, okay? He’s...not exactly my type.”

Lance tilted his head, his worry vanishing and curiosity taking its place. “What is your type?”

Keith shrugged. “You, I guess.”

A warm flush swept through Lance, starting in his toes and flowing up to color his cheeks. “Say again?”

Keith looked a little pink himself. “I mean, that’s obviously what the universe thinks or whatever. Because we’re soulmates. But you knew that.”

“Yeah,” Lance said slowly. “But we’re not--”

“No, I know!” Keith waved his hands in front of him, cutting Lance off. “I just meant that if, hypothetically, I ended up with someone, I would want him to be like you.”

That damn  _ warmth _ was back again, kicking Lance’s heart into double-time. “That was almost sweet, pumpkin.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. It was adorable. “Don’t ruin it, man.”

“Couldn’t if I tried,” Lance whispered, giving Keith a small smirk and turning away.

“Did you say something?” Keith asked.

Lance raised his eyebrows, flopping back down in his chair. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I just wanted to add one more quick little note. The plan for this fic is to have a bunch of little day-to-day snapshots of the two of them, at least at first. The "snapshots" will be in chronological order, unless specified otherwise in the story. I thought I should clarify that in case of confusion, so...there y'all go. Hopefully clarified.
> 
> <3


	3. In Which Keith Does Some More Sighing and is Just Generally Bad at Social Interaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith doesn't know what he's doing so Lance steps in and now they both don't know what they're doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, mens, and non-binary friends...hi! I'm back! A month later! For whatever reason, this chapter just wasn't flowing, and so it took an embarrassingly long time to come out--and it's still really not that long. So sorry for both of those. 
> 
> ps. apparently Keith likes drinking water  
> pps. Shiro will cuddle anyone who lets him, and you can take this from my cold, dead hands
> 
> Enjoy!

“Is it illegal to kill your soulmate?” Lance asked.

“No,” Keith replied. “But don’t fucking do it anyway.”

“That’s literally murder,” Hunk said from where his head was resting against Lance’s knees. “And murder is, in fact, illegal.”

“I don’t believe it,” Lance declared. “That can’t be true.”

Keith looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t believe that murder is illegal? Lance, dude--”

Lance waved him off. “No, babe, I don’t believe that killing your soulmate isn’t illegal. Surely there are laws against that somewhere.”

Hunk shrugged. “Probably, but I’m pretty sure that the ‘killing’ part just falls under the other murder laws.”

The three of them were sitting in Shiro’s small living room. Lance and Keith were next to each other on the couch and Hunk was on the floor, leaning back against Lance’s legs. It was a Tuesday evening, and the daylight coming in through the windows was beginning to darken. None of them made a move to turn on any lights, though, and Keith wasn’t bothered by it. It gave them room a peaceful, almost sleepy feeling.

“Do we want to know why you’re asking, anyway?” Hunk said, his voice a mixture of fond exasperation and amusement. “Did Keith do something?”

“‘Did Keith do something’,” Lance repeated. “You’re damn right he ‘did something’.”

Keith cleared his throat. “According to Lance, I spent ninety three seconds too long getting ready in the bathroom yesterday.”

“A whole  _ ninety three  _ seconds,” Lance said, his hands flailing. “We have a schedule on Monday mornings, and he didn’t stick to it.”

“You have to make up your mind,” Keith told him. “You can’t get on my case about how I look and then get upset when I try to fix the things that you’re complaining about. Besides, you always spend at least forty minutes in the bathroom.”

“Because we’ve established that I take care of my skin, and the schedule allows for that.” Lance shot back. “If you’re going to start being healthy, we have to  _ work it in _ .”

“Wait,” Shiro interjected, walking into the room. In his hands he held a mug and a large bowl of popcorn. He set the bowl down on top of the coffee table in front of Hunk, then moved to sit in the large brown armchair that was positioned to face the couch. “Why do you two only have a bathroom schedule on Mondays?”

“We have to start the week off right,” Lance huffed. “Obviously.”

Shiro took a sip from his mug, his eyes bright with amusement. “Obviously.”

Keith rolled his eyes at his brother.

Shiro winked back at him.

“So how do you deal with who gets the bathroom when for the rest of the week?” Hunk wanted to know.

Keith shrugged. “Lance gets the bathroom.” He leaned forward to grab a handful of popcorn. It wasn’t until he was sitting upright again, a piece of popcorn in his mouth, that he realized the other three were staring at him. “What?”

Shiro wrinkled his nose. “We’re just surprised by how..unaggressive...that was.”

Keith’s shoulders rose slightly toward his ears. “I’m not an ass about everything. Surprise.”

Lance laughed, drawing the attention away from Keith. Keith relaxed, looking over at his soulmate thankfully. “Keith sleeps in, I get the bathroom. Works for us.” Lance said.

Hunk snorted at that. “Everyone has their systems, I guess.”

Lance pointed at him. “Exactly.” He looked over at Shiro and raised his eyebrows. “ _ Someone _ gets it.”

Shiro raised his hands defensively, his lips twitching. “Hey, I’m innocent.”

The front door to his apartment opened then shut with a slam. As one, the four men turned to watch the newcomer.

“Hi,” Pidge Gunderson said, leaning down to untie her shoes and pull them off. “What’s happening, whores?”

Keith hid a smile by tossing another piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Shiro let out a long-suffering sigh. “Hi, Pidge.”

Pidge walked over to him, flopping down on his lap. Looking up at him, she grinned. “What, no  _ watch your language _ ?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would it do any good?”

She smirked, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Nope.”

He reached around her, bringing his mug to his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

Lance threw a piece of popcorn at Pidge. She caught it, eating it with a satisfied smirk. “What’s up, Pidgeon?”

“I’ll have you know,” Pidge responded. “That that nickname has not gotten any funnier as the years have passed.”

Lance scoffed. “Please. We all know I’m hilarious.”

“Do we?” Keith asked.

Lance looked over at him, both eyebrows lifted. “Yes. We do.”

“Ugh,” Shiro grunted. “It’s too early to deal with you two. Stop.”

As one, they turned back to look at him. “It’s past five,” Keith said, raising an eyebrow.

His brother nodded. “My point is, it’s always too early to deal with you two.”

Lance  _ hmm _ ed. “I have the sense that I should probably feel somewhat insulted.”

Hunk laughed. “So, what are we thinking? Should we go out to eat? Order in?” Pidge opened her mouth and he held up a finger, stopping her. “I already made you breakfast, gremlin.”

She crossed her arms, a small pout on her face.

Shiro wrapped his arms around her, repositioning her on his lap. She ended up with her legs dangling over his, her head under his chin. “I’m up for whatever,” he said. “Although going out to eat does sound like a lot of work, if I’m being honest.”

Keith shrugged. “Ordering in is fine with me.”

“Only if we get pizza from that one vaguely sketchy place down the street,” Lance said, his expression bright.

“I still think they lace their cheese with drugs,” Pidge mumbled.

“Yeah, well, no complaints from me.”

Keith shot Lance a look. “No, you should definitely have some complaints about drugged cheese.” He shook his head. “How have you not accidentally died yet?”

Lance’s brow furrowed. “That’s a pretty good question."

Keith coughed out a laugh. “Dumbass.”

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m  _ your  _ dumbass.”

Shiro cleared his throat, saving a suddenly flustered Keith from having to respond. “So, we were going to order some pizza?”

 

By the time the pizza arrived, things had settled down again--or, at least, as settled as things could be when Lance, Pidge, and Hunk were in a room together. The three of them, along with Shiro, were currently sprawled out on the floor of the living room, piled on top of each other like puppies. Keith had been part of the pile too, until he had untangled himself so he could go and get a glass of water. Because of this, he was unanimously elected to deal with the delivery person when a knock on the door sounded.

With a small sigh, Keith set his now-empty glass down on the kitchen counter and moved for the front door, pulling it open when he got there. He didn’t look at the person on the other side at first, more preoccupied with pulling out his wallet.

“Hey,” a vaguely familiar voice said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Keith’s head shot up, and he met a pair of brown and hazel eyes. “Oh,” he said.

The owner of those eyes smiled, holding out two pizza boxes. “Santos, from the library last week.”

“Santos,” Keith said slowly. “Oh, I know you. You were there when--” His eyes went to Lance, and he shifted on his feet. “Anyway, hi. How much?”

Santos smiled again, leaning in towards Keith. “Twenty bucks, although I’d be willing to offer you a discount.”

Keith frowned. “You can do that?”

“I’d be willing to figure it out if you went on a date with me.”

Surprised, Keith blinked. Then blinked again.

Lance appeared behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “So sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said to Santos, who appeared taken aback. “And since this lazy shoe doesn’t seem to be planning on answering any time soon--yes, he would love to go on a date with you.”

“‘Lazy shoe’?” Keith repeated, then shook his head.  _ Focus on the important thing, Keith _ . “I mean, uh,” he glanced between Lance and Santos, who was starting to look amused. “I’m very flattered, but we don’t know each other.” Besides, the thought of being romantic with someone who wasn’t Lance--not that he had any plans to be romantic  _ with _ Lance--felt like a hot dagger to his ribs.

Lance, on the other hand, seemed to be feeling the exact opposite. In fact, he was speaking again, his mouth going a mile a minute. “That’s the point of a date, Keith. To get to know each other.” To Santos, he said, “Where and when should he meet you?”

Santos raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you sure he’s okay with this? He seems a little...pale.”

_ Yeah _ , Keith wanted to scoff.  _ That’d be because I’m not on board with this at all. _

He stayed silent.

Lance looked over at him, his face softening. “It will do you some good to get out of the house for a social event that doesn’t involve the group of idiots back there.”

“Hey,” Pidge called. “As the ringleader of the idiots, you can’t just excuse yourself from that insult.”

Lance snickered, focusing back on Keith. “Just one date, babe.”

This was peer pressure. This was what all his middle school teachers had warned them about--although they’d never said anything about your soulmate pressuring you to go out on a date with some strange man that you’d only met twice.

Keith knew that if he said  _ no _ , if he paid for the pizzas and opened his mouth and asked Santos to leave, he would. He knew that Lance was trying to do what he thought would make Keith happy--he knew that.

So Keith opened his mouth and said yes.

 

The date was as horribly awkward as he’d expected.

Santos had gotten his number that night, and they’d agreed to meet at a small café a few buildings down from Keith’s apartment building the next Saturday after Santos had shown up with the pizzas. The location meant that Keith felt like he could safely escape if he wanted to, and the food wasn’t half bad.

Santos wasn’t half bad either, but things were going downhill anyway.

They’d arrived maybe thirty minutes ago, and so far Santos had only been able to pry monosyllabic phrases or short, curt answers out of Keith.

It wasn’t that Keith wasn’t trying. He  _ was _ .

The problem was that he didn’t actually want to be there in the first place, despite how kind and bright and open Santos was. The other man had kept up a near-constant stream of chatter for the first ten minutes or so, probably hoping to relax Keith, and it had worked--at least to some extent.

It reminded him of Lance, which made him tense up all over again.

The whole reason he was here, on this  _ date _ , was because of Lance. And it should have been nothing, it should have barely been a thought at the back of his mind, but for some reason he couldn’t let it go.

Santos had lapsed into silence at some point during the last five minutes and Keith sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Look,” he said. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll pay for the food and the drinks, you can write this off as a bad date, and then we just don’t have to see each other again.”

To his surprise, Santos smiled. “What if I want to see you again?”

Keith blinked. He seemed to be doing a lot of that around this man.

Santos sighed, placing his elbows on the table that they were sitting at and leaning forward. “I’ll be honest with you, this hasn’t been the best date that I’ve ever been on.”

Keith flushed.

“But,” Santos continued, his voice gentle. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your soulmate’s, either. You don’t seem like the kind of person who opens up very easily, Keith, and that intrigues me. You’re still here, which also intrigues me.” He sat back in his chair. “I’d  _ like _ to see you again, but it doesn’t have to be like this. Maybe we go for a walk in the park, and you don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to.” He pushed back from the table and stood, smiling down at Keith. “We’ll call it a do-over. A fresh start.”

Keith took a deep breath.

And another.

“Okay,” he said nodding. “Yes. I think...I think I’d like that.”

Santos smiled, a true genuine smile that crinkled up his face and made him look radiant. “I’ll text you, then.” He took a step back from the table, then paused and winked. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer of paying as well.” He walked away, waving over his shoulder. “I’ll see you, Keith. Thanks for today.”

Keith watched him go, then raised a hand to his mouth in mild shock.

He was smiling too.

 

When he got home, Lance was waiting and ready to pounce. Before Keith was all the way through the door, questions were flying out of Lance’s mouth.

Keith tugged his shoes off and shrugged at Lance. “It was bad. I have a second date.”

Lance grinned. “Really?” His grin faltered, then slid into a frown. “Wait, what?”

Keith sighed, padding into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. “It didn’t go well, but he asked me out again. Called it a ‘fresh start’.”

“Huh,” Lance said, following him. “That’s something.”

Keith took a deep gulp of his water before setting the glass down on the counter and nodding. “I’m not sure how it happened, actually, but...it did.”

“Yeah,” Lance said softly. “It did.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies!  
> <3


	4. In Which Keith's Sighing Streak May Be Beaten By Lance's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is sick (and not in a good way), and Lance is starting to realize that he may have made a mistake. 
> 
> (O dang folks, we've got TWO povs in this one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, it's been four months and I'm honestly only here because of an angel named Hyla. I know I don't always respond to comments, but please know that I always appreciate them and all of you. Also, I should probably mention that I haven't watched Voltron for around four months as well, and I have no idea what's going on canonically (yikes, right?). It shouldn't matter too much anyway, as this is a Modern AU and all, but I thought I'd let you all know.
> 
> Anyway, I'm not dead and I'm now committed to seeing this mess through. Thank you for reading, as always.
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith groaned, slumping over against the wall outside their apartment. He felt like shit, he couldn’t find his keys anywhere, and Lance wasn’t home.

With a small exhale through his nose, he fished in his bag for his phone. He found it and pulled it out, unlocking it to swipe to the call screen.

Halfway through typing in Lance’s number, the screen flashed at him and died.

He groaned again, thumping his head back against the wall. His head was pounding and he was sweating, so much so that he was starting to feel  _ damp _ .

It was gross.

He lifted his head from the wall and considered the other doors in the hallway. The neighbors liked Lance more than him, true, but someone could probably still lend him their phone, right?

He was disregarding the idea almost as soon as he thought of it. He wasn’t a fan of being vulnerable in front of people that he didn’t know well, and he considered feeling like shit to be pretty damn vulnerable.

He forced himself to walk back down the stairs to the elevator, letting out a heavy breath as he pushed the “down” button. He hadn’t been feeling great that morning, but he’d waved Lance off when he’d expressed concern--something that he was deeply regretting now.

The doors slid open and Keith stepped inside, pressing his thumb to the button that would take him to the lobby. As the doors shut and the elevator started to move, he leaned back against the railing that ran along the inside walls and shut his eyes.

He wanted sleep.

Lots of it.

His next coherent thought was,  _ Jesus fuck, I’m an idiot. _

He made his way through the lobby and out into the street, where he walked until he found a bench. Sitting, he closed his eyes again and tried to strip through his part of the mental wall between him and Lance. It took a while--they hadn’t torn it down in years. Eventually, though, the barrier was thin enough that Keith was able to do the equivalent of knocking on Lance’s side.

A minute passed with no response.

Resigned, Keith opened his eyes, only to slam them closed again as  _ Lance _ came flooding into his mind.

_ Keith?  _ He asked.  _ Are you dying? Did you get hit by a car? What’s wrong? _

_ Lance, _ Keith replied, smiling. _ I’m glad you heard me. _

Lance sent him the impression of his familiar scoff.  _ No duh. Answer my question. _

_ It’s not a big deal, _ Keith said.  _ I just can’t find my keys, and I wanted to know if you were close by. _

_ Hunk and I went out for lunch, _ Lance said slowly. There was something--

Keith frowned.  _ Why are you guilty? _

_ Dammit,  _ Lance exclaimed.  _ Stop being smart, and start being dumb like me. I accidentally grabbed your keys this morning when we left. _

Keith had to open his eyes, just so he could roll them. They had left the apartment at the same time that morning, Lance to hang out with Hunk, and Keith to stop by the post office.  _ Lance. _

_ I’m sorry!  _ Lance cried.  _ They were just sitting there, and I thought I was running late, and-- _

_ It’s fine, man _ . Keith cut him off. He wasn’t usually a fan of leaving his eyes open when he talked to Lance like this, but he felt too much like shit to care. They’d discovered that the mental conversations gave them a spacey, distracted air, and he was paranoid that seeing his unfocused eyes would make somebody think that they could mug him with no resistance or something.

Shiro made fun of him for it.

Keith told him to fuck off.

_ I feel like it’s not fine, though, _ Lance said, drawing Keith’s attention back to the conversation.  _ You broke down the wall just to tell me that you don’t have your keys? _

_ My phone died _ , Keith added.  _ There was that, too. _

_ Are you sure that’s all? _ Lance pressed.

Keith pressed his lips together before exhaling sharply through his nose.  _ Fine. I don’t feel good, and I’m going over to Shiro’s. I thought you should know in case I collapse and die on my way over there. _

_ I absolutely told you so, _ Lance replied.  _ And like hell you’re dying on me. _

_ Watch me _ , Keith thought viciously, then coughed.

_ Go to Shiro’s _ , Lance said, his voice softer.  _ I’ll be there as soon as I can _ .

_ Don’t be ridiculous _ , Keith said.  _ You’re out with Hunk. I just thought that you should know what was going on so you didn’t freak out when you got home and I wasn’t there. _

_ Hunk’s put up with our shit for years,  _ Lance said.  _ He’s not going to have a problem with spending time at Shiro’s house, especially when it’s because you aren’t feeling well _

_ If you’re sure _ , Keith replied, suddenly exhausted. He was always up for arguing with Lance, but right then a hug sounded a lot better than a fight.

_ Go to your brother’s, _ Lance murmured softly.  _ We’ll see you there. Are you going to be okay getting there? _

Keith managed to summon a smile, then let it slide off his face when he remembered that Lance wasn’t actually in front of him.  _ Stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine _ .

Lance sighed.  _ I wish I could believe you _ .

Keith heaved himself up off the bench with a grunt and started walking, trying to focus on placing one foot after the other.

_ By the way _ , Lance said.  _ It’s my job to worry about you. You can pay me by letting me do it. _

  
  


When Lance got to Shiro’s, a worried Hunk by his side, he was greeted with the sight of Keith on the floor outside the door of his brother’s apartment, his back against the wall and his legs splayed out in front of him.

“You know,” Lance said, standing between Keith’s legs and putting his hands on his hips. “I actually meant to go  _ inside _ Shiro’s apartment, not hang out outside.”

Keith tilted his head up. His eyes, which were worryingly hazy, met Lance’s and he smiled sheepishly. “Whoops.”

With a small sigh, Lance bent down to hoist the smaller man up. As soon as he was on his feet, Keith swayed inward toward Lance, his eyelids dropping to half-mast. Lance caught him and turned them to face the front door, wrapping a steadying arm around his waist. Hunk opened the door for them, and they shuffled in.

Shiro looked up from his couch, clearly startled. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” He caught sight of Keith and jumped to his feet. “What happened?”

Lance walked them over and pulled off Keith’s jacket, tossing it off to the side before he hefted Keith onto the couch cushions. “Keith’s sick, and he’s being a stubborn ass about it.”

Keith shook his head blearily, pulling Lance down with him. “‘M fine.”

Hunk snorted. “You’re very much not fine.”

Keith frowned, laying his head on Lance’s shoulder. “I’m  _ fine _ .”

Lance rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Keith. The contact calmed both of them, although Lance tensed up again as he felt the shivers wracking Keith’s body.

“Oh, wait,” Keith coughed, suddenly struggling to pull away. “Gonna get you sick too.”

Lance pulled him tighter against him. “Shut up.”

Shiro walked over and bent to place his hand against Keith’s forehead. He withdrew it with a hiss. “Keith, you’re burning up. Lance, will you take him to my bed, please? And Hunk--”

Hunk was already nodding, hurrying toward the kitchen. “I’ll make him some tea.”

Lance let go of Keith and stood up, then leaned down again to scoop him into his arms, bridal style. Keith mumbled and coughed into Lance’s neck.

“Gross,” Lance said cheerfully, making his way toward Shiro’s bedroom door. “Keep it up and you really will get me sick.”

The “wall” between them was still down, which meant Lance could feel every ounce of Keith’s sudden guilt.

Lance bit back a smile, adjusting his grip to free a hand enough to reach out and turn the room’s doorknob. “I’m kidding, gorgeous. Just worry about taking care of yourself, okay?”

Keith grumbled something unintelligible in response.

They got him situated in the bed, although he was asleep by the time Lance finished tucking him in.

“How’s he doing?” Shiro asked from the doorway, a steaming mug in his hand. He walked over to place it on the bedside table, then turned to Lance and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Lance leaned into him, sighing. “He hates being sick.”

Shiro laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Always has.” He dropped a kiss on top of Lance’s head. “He’ll be fine, buddy.”

Lance smiled. “Yeah. Thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro gave him a squeeze, then let go and headed for the door. “Of course. You’re welcome to stay for however long you’d like. Hunk wanted me to tell you that he had to go to work, but he’ll swing by later tonight to check on Keith.” He left, closing the door gently behind him, and Lance sank down onto the bed beside Keith.

“You idiot,” he whispered, smoothing a hand across Keith’s sweaty forehead. “You absolute buffoon.”

To his surprise, Keith’s eyes fluttered open. “Insulting me while I’m defenseless, McClain?”

Lance scowled back at him, hastily removing his hand. “Apparently not. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Keith mumbled, surprisingly complacent. He hesitated, then said, “Will you stay with me?”

Lance’s smile hurt his cheeks. Like that was even a question that needed to be asked. “Obviously.”

 

The next time Keith woke, it was because he was gripped with an unrelenting sense of panic.

“Lance,” he hissed, throwing his arm out toward the other side of the bed and sweeping it around until it connected with warm flesh. “ _ Lance _ .”

Lance rolled toward him with a grunt. “Keith?” His voice was hoarse and sleepy, and Keith had to bite his cheek to get himself back on track.

“Lance,” he said, turning toward him and propping himself up on an elbow. “What did I do?”

Lance sat up too, leaning toward Keith. The light in the room was dim, but it was enough to let Keith see that Lance had taken off his shirt at some point during the night, and miles of lean, tan skin were on display. “What do you mean? Did something happen?”

Keith scooted closer, dragging his eyes away from his soulmate’s chest. “I don’t  _ know _ . I have this feeling, like I’m forgetting something important.”

Lance had the nerve to chuckle. “I can feel how much you’re panicking. Maybe start by taking a deep breath?”

Keith did as instructed, then swayed as his head throbbed with a sudden and intense pain. “Oh, ow.”

“There’s a glass of water and the cup of tea that Hunk made on the table behind you,” Lance said softly. “It’s definitely cold by now, but it might be nice on your throat. Or, if you’d like, I can go make you some soup.”

“I’m not sure I’d be able to keep it down,” Keith replied honestly. Another pulse of pain made him wince, and he brought a hand up to massage at his forehead. “I just can’t  _ remember _ .”

Lance reached out and grabbed his free hand, holding it between both of his. “Calm down, we’ll figure it out. You were off work, you didn’t have plans with me or Shiro or Pidge...have you talked to Allura recently?”

Keith shook his head. “It wasn’t her--I’m going to dinner with her, Coran, and Shiro tomorrow, remember?”

Lance might have scowled. “Not if you’re not feeling well you’re not.”

Allura and her old family friend, Coran, were the final members of the library’s permanent staff. Allura and Shiro had met in college and he had introduced her to his little brother, because that was just the type of person he was. She had met the rest of them through Keith and Lance and the rest, as they say, was history.

Keith shook his head again, harder. “Were we going to do something? Did I promise to get you something?”

Lance reached up and placed the tips of his fingers against Keith’s cheek, stilling him immediately. “Babe, go back to sleep. We can figure it out in the morning.”

Keith leaned into the touch, feeling exhausted. “But--” Sudden realization struck him, and his mouth dropped open. “Oh my god. Santos.”

The light really was poor in this room. It almost looked like Lance’s face had fallen at the name.

Keith pulled away with Lance with more force than he probably should have and scrambled out of bed, aiming for the door.

He almost fell after his first step.

Lance hurried out of bed and around to the other side to help Keith steady himself. “You’re dehydrated, sick, and probably have super low blood sugar levels. You need to go back to bed. I’ll get you your phone if you try to drink that water.”

“You don’t understand,” Keith tried to say. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth, and it was hard to focus on Lance’s face. “I told him I would text him. I think he wanted to go out on our second date this weekend.”

“Are you shitting me?” Lance cried. “That’s what this is about? I take it back. Get your ass  _ back in bed _ . You are not pushing yourself for a  _ guy _ , especially when you can talk to him tomorrow and it will be  _ completely fine _ .”

Keith sagged into Lance’s arms. “He’s been so nice to me though.”

Lance hauled him back toward the bed. “He will continue to be nice.” His voice was strained, probably from the effort of moving Keith.

Keith tried to help, to make it easier on Lance, but he only succeeded in almost falling over again. “Lance,” he whispered.

“Keith,” Lance whispered back, getting them both back under the covers. “Why do you do this to me?”

Keith rolled toward him, tucking his face into Lance’s neck. “I like to make your life miserable, I guess.”

Lance coughed out a laugh. “You don’t say.”

Keith tried to press a kiss to Lance’s skin, but it was very possible that he only managed to slightly move his chin. He couldn’t really tell anymore. “You’re pretty great, you know. I’m lucky to have you.”

Lance sighed, deeply enough that Keith could feel it rustle his hair. “Okay, we’ve gone through like three different topics in the last five minutes.” His voice gentled, and he looped an arm over Keith’s waist, pulling him closer. “Let’s just sleep, okay? Everything else can wait for tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Keith muttered. “I didn’t drink the water.”

Lance’s only response was a snore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next time, loves.


	5. In Which Lance is the Only One Who Sighs and it's Not Even Related to Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I...don't know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings, I'm back in a not-really-timely fashion. Sorry that this chapter is more of a transition chapter than anything else--but at least it's an important transition? As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> Enjoy!

Lance woke up to a hand hitting him in the face.

“Very nice,” he muttered. “Just what I wanted.”

The owner of the hand grunted.

Lance sat up, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he surveyed the scene. Keith must have rolled away from him at some point, as the other man was now laying eagle-spread across the bed, the blanket wrapped haphazardly around his legs. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep--complete with little whistles from his nose.

Lance leaned over and pressed a gentle hand to Keith’s forehead. To his relief, the fever seemed to have broken.

“Mmph,” Keith muttered. “ _ Mmph _ .”

Lance blew on the other man’s nose. “Good morning to you too.”

Keith mumbled something else clearly indignant.

Lance gave his head a pat and started to force himself out of the bed, only to freeze as a warm hand wrapped around his wrist. Turning back, he found Keith looking at him out of heavy-lidded, sleepy eyes. “Oh, hi,” Lance said. “What’s up?”

“Where are you going?” Keith rasped.

Lance couldn’t lie to himself--Keith’s sleep-roughened voice was sexy as all hell.

Keith  _ growled _ , and Lance realized-- _ nice fucking going, Lance-- _ the wall was still down.

Flushing, he dropped his eyes to examine the hold his soulmate still had on him. “I was going to go--you know. Do things. Leave you be.” He dared to raise his gaze back up.

Keith’s thick eyebrows drew together. “‘Do things?”

Lance nodded. “Yep. I’ve got a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal calling my name.”

Keith relaxed his grip slightly. “You really shouldn’t eat that shit. It’s awful for you.”

Lance couldn’t help his grin. Shiro was typically a health nut (or, as much as hanging out with Hunk and his offerings of delectable sweets allowed him to be), but his one consistent guilty pleasure was sugary, trashy cereals. He was obsessed with the stuff, and Lance took full advantage of it whenever he was visiting Shiro and jonesing for a snack.

“I don’t care,” he purred, leaning in toward Keith. “Papa wants his sugar.”

“I will pay you to never say that again,” Keith shot back.

Laughter from the doorway had both of their attentions snapping that way. Allura stood there, although Lance wasn’t sure when she had arrived. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Keith,” she said, winking at Lance.

Lance grinned back.

Although he had a tendency toward dark hair and snappier tempers (god knew why; he already had one too many temperamental assholes linked to him for life), literally no one with a pulse could deny that Allura was gorgeous. Tall and lithe, with flowing silvery-white hair and stunning cerulean eyes, she was sexy and badass. The light pink pattern of the tattoo she had gotten up her right cheek and across part of her brow bone popped against her naturally tan skin and simply added to her overall coolness factor, and Lance would be the first to admit it.

He loved her.

He idolized her.

He wanted to  _ be  _ her.

She was, unironically, the single best thing to happen to his fashion taste. She did makeup like nobody’s business, had an amazing eye for color, and always seemed to know what would look good on someone before they did.

He sighed dreamily, making Keith snort. “He’s got a style boner over you again,” he informed their friend.

She laughed, coming closer to press a kiss to Lance’s cheek. “It’s been too long since we’ve gone shopping, hm?”

Lance rolled his eyes, yanking the thumb of his free hand back toward Keith. The lout had pulled in his sprawling limbs somewhat, but he was still sunk into the pillows and clearly had no plans to move any time soon. “Remind me after I’m done worrying over this jackass.”

“Oh, the concern,” Keith stage whispered. “I can feel it wrapping around my very heart.”

Allura laughed again. “Of course, Keith comes first. I was actually coming to see if you two needed anything--I stopped by to drop off a book for Shiro, and he told me that I should come check on you, because  _ please, Allura, I’m a sad and weary man _ .” She dropped her voice to mimic Shiro’s, and Lance laughed.

“We’re all good here. Thanks though, ‘Lura.” He looked over at Keith. “I’m getting my cereal, and you can’t stop me. Stay here and rest.” His eyes lit on the glass of water from the night before, and he pointed at it. “Actually, finally freaking drink that. Then rest. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“I feel much better,” Keith protested, then had the fucking nerve to  _ pout _ . “I can get up and we can leave.”

Lance tore his eyes away from Keith’s lips, biting his tongue in an effort to calm his heart, because what the  _ hell _ grown men shouldn’t  _ pout  _ and look  _ that damn cute _ .

Of course, he himself did it all the time and looked adorable.

But he was a special case.

“No,” he finally said. “Take advantage of me allowing you to stay in bed. Drink the water, go back to sleep.” He gently pried Keith’s fingers from his wrist and stood, dragging Allura with him into the hall and closing the door behind them, ignoring the faint cursing protest that echoed through his head.

“‘Allow him to stay in bed’, huh?” Allura teased, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Someone’s got a bossy side.”

Lance gave her a gentle push toward the kitchen. “Leave me alone, brat. He wouldn’t get up half the time if I didn’t yell at him.”

“They have a system,” Pidge said as they walked past the couch. Her torso was on the cushions, her legs were over the back, and her phone was in her hands. “I don’t question it, because I don’t want to know about their undoubtedly kinky sex life.”

“Great,” said Lance. “You’re here too.”

“It’s like eight in the morning,” she replied. “I’ve been up for hours.”

He poked her in the foot. “More like you didn’t sleep and barely waited until an acceptable time to come visit.”

She snorted, kicking out at him. “Yeah, you got me.” She went back to staring at her phone then paused, her eyes softening and flashing back to Lance. “How’s Keith?”

“Doing fine and not made of glass,” came the answer from behind the Lance. They all looked and--surely to no one’s surprise--found Keith standing there, his hair rumpled and his arms crossed over his chest.

Allura grinned. “Right, well, that’s my cue to go. Keith, I’ll see you tonight if you’re still up for dinner. Lance, we  _ have _ to have a girl’s day soon. Pidge, behave.”

Pidge blew her a kiss with her middle finger.

Allura left with a laugh and a wave, and Lance spun back to Keith, plopping his hands onto his hips. “What are you doing out here, mister?”

Keith waved him off, coming closer. “I drank the damn water, so relax. I’m feeling better and I want to go home so I can take a shower and change my clothes.”

“But my cereal,” Lance whined.

“Don’t you mean  _ my  _ cereal?” Shiro asked, coming into the room. He yawned, stretching, then tossed something to Keith. “Here’s your phone; I found it on the ground last night. Hi, Pidge. Lance, get me a bowl while you’re at it.”

Keith eyed him. “Why’re you up so late?”

Shiro walked over to him, ruffling the thick dark strands of his hair. Keith scowled and ducked out of range. “Because I have a dumb little brother who makes me worry. How are you feeling, bud?”

Keith threw his hands up. “I would feel better if everyone would stop fussing over me!”

Lance clicked his tongue, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

For all of his posturing, Keith didn’t actually mind being fretted over. Lance could feel the fondness it really inspired, a glowing warmth in his chest that translated easily over to Lance.

Keith stomped over to him, grabbing the milk out of the fridge and shoving it in his direction. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Lance raised his eyebrows, pouring out two bowls of the cereal he’d chosen. “Like what?”

“Like you know what’s going through my head.”

“Hey, news flash,” Lance reached for the milk, waiting to grab it until Keith had met his eyes. “I  _ do. _ ”

Keith sagged like Lance knew he would, all the aggression leaving him in a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just embarrassing.”

Lance smiled, shoving fondness and amusement toward Keith through the bond. “Well, if you’re going to make a habit out of being a dickhead when you’re sick and not taking care of yourself, get used to being embarrassed.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m also sorry about last night. Is that what you wanted?”

Lance poured milk into the bowls and replaced the carton in the fridge while he spoke, striving to keep his tone light. “No worries. I mean, here we are the next day, and no tragedies have commenced. I’d call it a win.”

As if on cue, the phone Keith still had clenched in his hand buzzed.

Keith looked at it slowly, then over at Lance. “It’s Santos. Wants to know how my weekend has been.”

“Wow,” Lance muttered, grabbing a spoon and bringing it and one of the bowls over to Shiro, who had laid himself out on the couch next to Pidge. Her head was now cushioned on one of his thighs. “The sexual tension is so thick it’s practically choking me.”

When he went to retrieve his own bowl and spoon, he found Keith scowling at him. “Don’t give me that. This was your idea, I hope you remember.”

Lance took a large bite of cereal to keep from responding.

Keith’s scowl deepened. “I can hear your thoughts, dipshit. That won’t work on me.”

_ He seems like a great guy, don’t get me wrong _ . Lance said, meeting Keith’s eyes.  _ I guess I’m just...crabby. I’m sorry. _

Keith gentled.  _ I know. _

Lance finished his cereal in silence. There was an awkward tension between them now, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

It was there while they said goodbye to Pidge and Shiro and left the apartment.

It was there on their way home.

It was there when they were back in their own space, and when Keith ducked away from Lance as soon as he could.

Lance watched him go, feeling oddly dejected as Keith’s bedroom door shut gently behind him. He was effectively left alone with his thoughts, his old, beloved sweatshirt drooping from one hand. He had gotten it sometime in his junior year of high school (yes, it still fit, whatever. It was XL, okay?), and it had never stopped being comforting to him--mostly because of the memories.

He had gotten it on a shopping trip with Hunk and Keith. Hunk had really only needed some new jeans, but Lance had spotted a little hole-in-the-wall clothing shop and demanded that they go in and look around. Somewhat ironically, Keith had actually been the one to spot the jacket and toss it at Lance, accompanied by a grunted,  _ Here, this probably wouldn’t look terrible on you. _

Ah, Keith. Always a charmer.

Regardless, Lance had been touched enough to immediately buy the thing, blatantly ignoring Hunk rolling his eyes while he did so.

He had worn it almost every day for the next month or so, delighting in the way that Keith’s cheeks would always take on a distinct rosy tinge when he saw it. Eventually, Shiro insisted that it smelled bad enough that if Lance wasn’t going to wash it, he would do it himself. Lance caved, and took care of it (although Shiro took over halfway through the washing process anyway).

Lance had also been wearing the sweatshirt when he had gotten the news that his  _ abuelo _ had suffered a major heart attack and was in the hospital, barely holding on. Lance had collapsed on the ground while his mother told him, her voice shaky and her eyes bright with unshed tears. Pidge and Keith had bracketed him, their warm bodies bracing him on either side while he shivered and blinked, trying to make the world work right again.

There were so many other countless small moments that Lance’s sweatshirt had been with him for. It was dumb, and it was sentimental, but those moments were all parts of what made Lance  _ Lance _ , and he had always felt that--on some level--his jacket had become inescapably tied into his sense of self.

And now he was standing in their small entrance hall, staring at Keith’s closed door while the well-worn fabric dangled from his fingers.

With a deep sigh that ricocheted down to and back up from his toes, he kicked off his shoes and padded into the kitchen, pulling on his sweatshirt as he went.

Yeah, he needed to fix whatever the hell was wrong between him and Keith, and he’d much rather do it sooner than later. All the same, as long as he was waiting for a moment that wasn’t strife with uneasiness, he might as well do something he enjoyed.

Because in his case, food was always the answer.

 

Keith looked real fucking hot, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling was seeping through Lance’s chest.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know Keith was attractive. He was definitely aware of that.

But this was...something else.

Keith had ditched his usual  _ what do you mean I’m not a mechanic? _ look for a deep indigo button-up and gray slacks. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up--baring Keith’s infuriatingly muscular forearms--and his dark hair was rumpled from him raking his fingers through it.

“You look good,” Lance muttered.

No, he didn’t. He looked hot as sin, and sexy as all hell to boot.

Keith’s fingers went through his hair again. “Thanks.” He checked the time on his phone. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I think you would regret it if you didn’t go,” Lance replied.

Keith took a deep breath, the anxiety radiating off of him in waves and making Lance’s stomach shrivel as he received the full impact through their bond.

Neither of them had mentioned that it was still open, that the wall was still down, and Lance found himself extremely reluctant to be the one to bring it up. He didn’t know why Keith hadn’t said anything, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Okay,” Keith said on an exhale. “Okay. It’s just a date, yeah? It’ll be fine.”

Lance nodded. “It’ll be fine.”

A knock on the door made them both jerk in surprise. Lance, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, watched as Keith hurried to reach the door, his cheeks flushing faintly as he pulled it open.

Santos waited on the other side, his multihued brown eyes bright as he smiled at Keith. “Hello there.”

Keith “smiled” back--although, if Lance was honest, it looked more like a grimace.

_ Shut up _ , Keith said.

“Hi, Santos,” Lance chirped, biting back a laugh. “I don’t know if you remember me from the library; I’m Lance.”

Santos turned to him with another smile. “Lance, of course. How are you doing?”

Lance nodded. “Not too badly, thanks. Where are you two off to tonight? Keith refuses to tell me.”

Santos cut a glance at Keith. “Oh, does he?”

Keith flushed deeper and avoided eye contact with both of them.

Santos turned back to Lance with a smile. “We’re just going out for dinner and some drinks. I’ll have him back in one piece, don’t you worry."

The thing was, Lance  _ was  _ worrying.

He didn’t know what it was, and he couldn’t honestly dismiss the possibility that he might just be reacting unreasonably, but there was something about Santos that was starting to rub him the wrong way the more time he spent interacting with the other man. He had been so quick to push Keith toward him at the library (because, seriously, the guy was hot), but now he was wondering if he had been overly hasty.

Keith, luckily, hadn’t seemed to have picked up on any of his thoughts. He gave Lance a little push to the shoulder and offered him a small smile. “I’ll check in with you later, okay?”

Lance nodded, crossing his arms.  _ Stay safe. _

Keith rolled his eyes.  _ Duh _ .

Lance laughed. “Bye, you two. Have fun.”

With a final smile from Santos, the pair left, the door closing softly behind them.

Lance stayed where he was, staring at the wood of the door and trying to convince him that he was just being paranoid for no good reason. Keith was a highly capable adult and if he needed help, Lance would know before literally anyone else on the planet.

But.

He didn’t like any of this.

With a groan, he pushed off of the counter and trudged toward the bookshelf in the corner of the room. If he couldn’t be there with them, he would stay awake and alert until Keith came home in one piece.

Because when it came to priorities, Keith came first.

Always.


	6. In Which There's Minimal Sighing Except From Hunk and From Me Because GodDAMN This Got Intense Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of feelings caught up in a whirlwind, and everyone is holding on for dear life, and ohhh man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my dears. I'm not dead! Surprise!  
> I've definitely said that before, but I feel like I'm justified in saying it again because WHEW Y'ALL I'M SO SORRY. I got completely caught up with school and final exams and a hundred other excuses but BASICALLY I haven't abandoned this and I promise the last few chapters will definitely be out sooner.  
> If you're still sticking around with my bullshit a) why, dude and b) thanks so much! I also just want to toss out a quick warning that this chapter is a little whack and more intense than it was supposed to be, but we'll get back to fluff right quick.
> 
> Sorry again, and please enjoy!

Life was strange, and Keith would be the first to admit it. Weeks had passed since that second (“first”) date with Santos and, by some minor miracle, Keith hadn’t fucked it up too badly.

Santos asked to see him again, and Keith agreed.

They were now settled in this strange almost-relationship, where they went on dates and talked (Santos more than Keith) and occasionally traded kisses.

It was nice.

Santos hadn’t met the rest of Keith’s family--meaning Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura--and he never seemed to visit Keith’s apartment while Lance was around. As a result, there was a bit of a disconnect between Keith and the others in terms of what was up with his relationship status, and that in turn led to the others neatly dodging the subject. Shiro still nagged him about meeting Santos, of course, but even Lance had a tendency to leave it alone.

Actually, Lance had been very quiet about the whole thing.

Keith had asked him several times if he’d like to go out to dinner with him and Santos at some point, and Lance always responded with a noncommittal hum before making up some shitty excuse and essentially running away, leaving Keith to watch him go.

So Keith learned to stop asking, and life moved along.

 

They had been together for three months now.

The others had met him, and--unusually--had nothing to say. No snarky commentary from Pidge and Lance, no parades of compliments from Hunk and Shiro.

They’d all just been...quiet.

 

Keith was lying on his bed with his head in Santos’s lap. His boyfriend (for lack of a better term; they still hadn’t actually defined the relationship) was sitting with his back propped up against the wall, gently carding his fingers through Keith’s hair. Keith was dozing, his eyes slipping shut, and Santos was paging through a book.

Keith hadn’t been in that many relationships, mostly because he had a habit of going around and glowering at people (and also he had had Settled eyes for the majority of his life, but that was just a technicality), but he had been in enough to know that he and Santos weren’t the most...passionate. Their time together could be sensual, yes, and the sex was good, but he didn’t think he had felt that  _ spark _ , that sharp bite of lust that just wouldn’t go away.

What he had felt, however, was peace.

Being with Santos was calming. The other man had become something of a safe haven for Keith, and he found himself spending more and more time with him, without the others around.

It was fine, though.

That was people who were together did, right?

Keith opened his eyes and looked up at Santos, considering. Familiar mismatched eyes looked back down at him, and Keith frowned.

It was fine.

 

“You know,” Lance said, tossing a friendly arm around Keith’s shoulders. He and Keith had just finished having dinner together--brought on by Lance dragging Keith out of the apartment the moment he got home--and now they were standing outside the taqueria where they had eaten, waiting for Santos to come pick Keith up. “Your guy isn’t very good at being punctual.”

_ He’s not “my guy” _ , Keith almost said, then winced. He kept having these errant, negative thoughts, but only when Santos wasn’t around. Because he was fine when they were together, which was almost always, he had chosen to ignore the little voice that just wouldn’t go away. “He got caught up in something last-minute at work. He’ll be here soon.” He frowned at Lance. “I told you that.”

Lance smirked. “Yeah, but I wanted to complain anyway.”

His arm fell away from Keith, and Keith missed the weight of it immediately.

“Lance,” he said after a moment, looking down at his shoes. “Are you okay?”

He felt Lance jerk in surprise. “Of course! Why do you ask?”

_ No reason, _ Keith wanted to say.  _ I just haven’t seen you smile-- _ really  _ smile--in forever. _

_ No reason, but I miss you. _

_ No reason, but you put the wall back up. _

_ No reason, but I keep thinking about blue, blue eyes. _

“No reason,” he said. “Just seems like it might have been a long day.”

Lance slumped against the brick wall of the taqueria with a small, tired laugh that didn’t meet his eyes. "You’re not wrong.”

Keith turned his head to look at him. “Do you want to...talk?”

Lance opened his mouth, but the honking of a horn interrupted him. They looked over to see Santos behind the wheel of his car, staring at them impatiently. “Come on,” he mouthed at Keith.

Lance snorted. “Yeah, like it’s  _ your _ fault that he wasn’t here when he was supposed to be.”

Keith lowered his eyes. “I won’t be out too late; we’re just going for drinks.”

Lance nodded, a sharp, jerking bob of his head. “Be safe, I’ll see you at home.”

“Yeah,” Keith muttered. “I’ll see you at home.”

He got in the car, and Santos turned to look at him. Neither of them said anything, and Keith let his eyes follow Lance as he left, walking away from them with his shoulders hunched and his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

“How was dinner?” Santos finally asked. His voice was calm, measured, and Keith’s skin prickled.

“Good, thanks.” He buckled himself in, and Santos pulled back onto the road.

“And how was Lance?”

Keith forced himself to relax. “He’s okay. Tired.”

Santos laughed. “Aren’t we all?”

Keith smiled too, but this time it wasn’t forced.

At least, it felt as natural as everything else did when Santos was around.

 

Something was wrong with Lance.

Hunk knew the signs, because he was Lance’s best friend, and he had been for a damn long time.

Less general, inane chatter; more quiet listlessness. Less complaining about any and everything, more soft murmurs of discontent without any real fire behind them.

The only problem was, Hunk didn’t know  _ what  _ was wrong.

He had watched Lance go through fevers and stress-induced breakdowns, head colds and heartbreaks, but this was something new.

Hunk didn’t do  _ new _ very well.

It didn’t leave him with the option to default to a plan of action, and that made him antsy, which made him less of a help to Lance.

All in all, it was an issue, and Hunk didn’t know how to un-issue it.

At the moment, he was lounging on the couch next to Pidge, the latter focused on the video game flashing across the screen of their living room TV.

Hunk frowned, reaching up to massage his forehead.

“What is it?” Pidge asked without looking away from the game.

“I don’t know,” Hunk sighed. “I just have a bad feeling.”

Pidge paused the game and turned to look at him, placing the controller down in her lap. “‘Just a bad feeling’ from you isn't something that I’m ever going to dismiss. What’s up?”

Hunk rubbed his forehead again. “Has Lance seemed...off to you, lately?”

Pidge surprised him by nodding vigorously. “I thought I was the only one who’d noticed! Keith seems a little screwed up too, but to my knowledge Shiro hasn’t said anything to him, so I figured if Shiro’s left it alone, it has to be fine.”

“Do you think they had a fight?”

She shook her head, frowning. “If they’d had a fight, we’d know. It’s not like Lance makes a habit of being quiet about his grievances.”

It was Hunk’s turn to nod vigorously. “That’s one of the things that’s been making me worry. I don’t know how to deal with him  _ not _ talking about everything.”

Pidge hesitated for a moment, obviously considering something, then reached out to lay a gentle hand on his arm. “I know it’s stressful, Hunk, but we might have to accept that we can’t do anything.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s a change in tone.”

She shook her head, sighing. “I know, but I also know that if Lance has clammed up, it has to be serious and we’re not getting anything out of him until he’s ready to talk. At this point, I think we should just be ready on the sidelines to hold him up if he needs us.”

Hunk raised both eyebrows this time. “That was more poetic than I was expecting from you.”

She scowled, shoving at his arm. “The little asshole is my best friend. I care.”

He laughed softly, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. “I know, Pigeon. I know.”

 

Lance looked terrible.

It took a lot of guts, he thought, to admit to himself that a specimen as beautiful as he was actually looking as rough as the reflection in the mirror showed.

He ducked his head briefly, coughing out a laugh.

That was a lie.

He was critical of his appearance on any given day because he was, surprise, human, but he took care of his skin and generally managed his dietary and sleeping habits, so he usually felt pretty okay with how he presented himself to the world.

But the version of himself looking back at him now was obviously tired, with deep bags under his eyes, ashen skin, and his cheekbones highlighted by his gaunt cheeks. It was enough to make him wince, and turn away from the bathroom mirror, making his way back to their living room.

“Suck it up,” he yelled at himself, collapsing face-first onto the couch. “Come on, you wuss. Quit being a wuss. You wuss.”

“Is there any chance that you are, in fact, a wuss?” Keith’s dry voice asked.

Surprised, Lance pushed himself up to his elbows and looked over to find Keith standing in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand and a bemused expression on his face.

“Hi,” Lance said.

“Hello,” Keith replied.

“What are you doing home?” Lance asked. Keith had been keeping odd hours as of late, mostly due to the ever-present Santos. While Lance hadn’t noticed Keith sleeping somewhere other than their apartment more than he was sleeping at home, he was out and about for almost all of the day.

“What are you being a wuss about?” Keith asked back. Part of Lance’s brain registered that he was definitely dodging the question, but the rest of him simply didn’t have the energy to dog Keith until he got an answer.

So instead he said, “It’s nothing,” and sat all the way up, facing away from Keith, who made a disapproving noise.

“Lance.”

“I think I’m going to go out, later.” Lance said to the floor. “Should I expect you home for dinner when I get back?”

There was silence, then a quiet “no.”

Lance nodded once, twice. “Okay. Say hi to Santos for me.”

“You could say it to him yourself,” Keith said, still quietly. He came to stand in front of Lance, the glass gone and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “If, you know, you ever wanted to actually hang out with us.”

Lance scoffed, his temper flaring. Keith had picked the  _ wrong _ time for this. “Oh, really?  _ I’m _ the one who doesn’t want to hang out with others?”

Keith’s eyebrows drew together to form an angry v. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

Keith’s mouth fell open. “I’m not! Explain what you mean,  _ please _ .”

“I have no idea what else it could mean.” Lance snapped. “I get that you and Santos are somehow still in that honeymoon phase of your relationship, but come  _ on. _ Contrary to popular belief, the rest of us aren’t actually chopped liver.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Keith huffed. “It’s not like I never spend time with you guys.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s true. But compared to the amount of time you spent with us before Santos was in the picture?”

Keith made an angry, wordless sound. There was something to it, too, that sounded almost  _ sad _ . “Lance, I know you don’t like change and I’m sorry that Santos coming into my life has been such a big one, but honestly, grow up. I don’t know what you were expecting, but I’m in a relationship that finally has nothing to do with you or the others. That means I can’t prioritize my time to fit around you all anymore.”

“ _ Finally _ ?” Lance repeated, sputtering, but that wasn’t really the part that was making his chest ache. Despite their arguments and fights over the years, despite navigating awkward societal expectations around the soulmate stuff, despite going though teenagerhood and just being general assholes to each other...despite all of that and everything else that made up their lives and defined their relationship together, Keith and Lance had always been on the same side.

Always.

This sudden shift to the deliberate “you all” that Keith had used hurt Lance more than he’d care to admit.

Keith’s cheeks grew red, the way they always did when he got really angry. “Yeah,  _ finally _ . Look, even you have to admit that our lives have been wrapped up in one another’s for as long as we’ve known each other. That’s a fucking long time, Lance.”

Lance tossed his hands up. “Okay, and? I’m sorry if us being fucking soulmates isn’t working out for you anymore, but it’s not like you get to just walk away!”

Lance watched as, in his pockets, Keith’s hands balled into fists. “What, are you jealous? Pretty boy Lance isn’t getting all the attention for once in his life?” He leaned closer, pulling out a hand to poke a finger into Lance’s chest. “You can’t handle watching someone else be happy when it doesn’t involve you?”

Lance reeled back, his eyes opening wide.

Keith winced, withdrawing slightly. “That’s not what I--”

“I don’t care what you do with your life,” Lance said. Even to him, his voice sounded sullen and dead. “It’s your life, and you’re your own person. I was just trying to say that I don’t  _ know _ if you’re happy, because I never see you anymore and, spoiler alert, I care about you a whole fucking lot.” He reached up to lightly push Keith aside so he could stand up. “You’re right, though. It’s none of my business. Have fun with Santos.”

“Lance,” Keith said. “Please don’t do that. I’m sorry I said that, and it’s not what I meant. You have to understand that I do miss you guys, but Santos deserves my attention too.”

Lance paused, but kept his back to Keith. “I know that, Keith. But I miss you,  _ we  _ miss you. Besides, it’s definitely not my place to say this, but whenever I do see you lately, you just seem...not like you.”

“And what about you?” Keith asked. His voice was still apologetic, but there was fire creeping back in. “I’m not the only one that people are worried about. You look like shit.”

Lance scoffed. “Thanks a lot.” He didn’t admit that he had been thinking the same thing not ten minutes before.

Keith stepped closer and laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance stiffened. “Is there something else going on?”

Lance shrugged his hand off. “No. And even if there was, why would you care? That’s something that’s happening in my own life, right?”

It was a low blow. He knew it was, because Keith inhaled sharply and snapped, “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be back late; don’t wait up.”

Lance stayed where he was, listening as Keith’s footsteps receded, and then as the front door opened and slammed shut.

He stayed where he was, and if his cheeks were wet, well. That was no one’s business but his.

 

It had been a week since their fight.

Keith had spent most of that week out of their apartment. When he wasn’t at work and avoiding Lance, he had been with Santos--mostly. He was making a concentrated effort to spend more time with the others, something that had made Pidge start sitting on him again when he was in the room with her.

He counted that as a win.

The problem was, Lance suddenly seemed to never be around. The total extent of their interactions had fallen to brushing past each other at work and at home. Keith hated it, but he was also determined to give Lance space until the other man was ready to talk to him again.

In retrospect, that was probably one of the worst things he could have done.

One evening, he came home from work (they’d established a pattern of Lance leaving, and then Keith leaving ten minutes later. Keith would freely admit that it was stupid.) to find Lance, Hunk, and Pidge sitting around their small dining table. Lance was laughing, and Keith couldn’t help but stare at him. He still looked tired and sickly, even more so than before, but his entire body seemed to light up when he laughed.

Keith had missed that.

Too soon, though, Lance looked up and noticed him hovering in the doorway. Keith braced himself for a glare or scowl or something of the sort, but to his pleased surprise, Lance offered him a hesitant smile.

Keith smiled back. Lance never could hold a grudge.

“Hey, Keith.” Pidge said. “Have you eaten yet? Hunk brought enchiladas, and there should still be some in the oven.”

“Thanks,” Keith said with a nod. “Sounds good.”

As he made himself a plate and walked over to the table, Lance stood up. “Bathroom,” he said, then left.

They watched him go. As soon as they heard the bathroom door close behind him, Hunk turned to Keith. “Okay, I wasn’t going to say anything because I figured he would sort it out or he would talk to us when he was ready, but what the hell is going on with Lance?”

Keith paused with a bite of enchilada halfway to his mouth. “Is something going on with Lance?”

Pidge gave him an eye roll that somehow managed to involve her whole body. “You haven’t noticed? Really?”

Keith frowned. “Does this have something to do with how sick he’s looked lately?”

Hunk slapped the table. “ _ Yes _ .” He shrugged. “We don’t know what happened, but we hoped you would.”

Keith slowly lowered his fork. “I hadn’t realize that something  _ had _ happened. I thought he had just come down with a cold or something.”

Hunk’s brow furrowed. “You two haven’t been talking?”

Keith shook his head, feeling oddly embarrassed. “We haven’t not been talking.”

Pidge’s eyes, which had been examining him thoughtfully, went wide with alarm. She swung to face Hunk. “You don’t think--”

There was an alarmingly loud  _ thump _ from the direction of the bathroom.

“Lance?” Keith called, pushing back from the table. When there was no response, he stood up and started walking, fast. “Lance?”

He all but ran to the bathroom door, Pidge and Hunk on his heels. Pounding on the wood of the door, he tried again, his heart in his throat. “ _ Lance _ ?”

“Can’t you, you know, feel him?” Hunk asked anxiously from beside him.

Keith shook his head. “We have the wall up right now.” He knocked again. “Lance, I’m coming in.”

Trying the knob, he was relieved to find it unlocked. Pushing the door open, he was less relieved to discover something on the floor blocking it from swinging all the way in.

With a rush of cold horror, like if someone had dumped a bucket of water on his head, he realized what that  _ something _ was.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, dropping to his knees next to Lance’s head. “Oh my god.”

He fumbled blindly for a pulse. Behind him, Pidge snapped something about calling 911 at Hunk.

“What the holy high fuck,” Keith said to Lance. There was a pulse, thank god, but the other man was still unresponsive. “You can’t do this to me, Lance. Legally, you’re not allowed to. I can sue. I  _ will  _ sue.” He leaned down, putting his face above Lance’s. “Do you hear me? I’m suing you for giving me a heart attack. I’m not even thirty, you asshole.”

Pidge’s hand was on his shoulder, gently pulling him away. “The EMTs are on their way.”

Keith wrenched away from her touch. “I’m staying with him.”

“Okay,” she soothed. “He’s going to be fine, you know. Most likely he just hasn’t been eating or hydrating properly.” 

That was a lie, and they both knew it. Lance was big on staying healthy, especially when it came to dietary habits. Forgetting to eat or drink anything for a large enough period of time that he passed out was extremely unlikely.

At the moment, however, Keith particularly care about  _ why  _ Lance was on the floor. He wanted him safe in the hands of professionals, first.

Then he would stress and worry and probably cry about it...and do his goddamn best to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again.


	7. In Which They're Dumb and Soft but it's Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the Fluff Zone (wee-woo, wee-woo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi fam, let's rock and roll.
> 
> Real quick, two things:  
> 1- I genuinely don't know how doctors work, so whoops sorry about that mess  
> 2- I was glancing back through previous chapters, and I guess I just...never clarified about Pidge and Hunk? Sorry about that; they're platonic soulmates, now you know, etc.
> 
> I was also reading back through the comments, and I'm SORRY to everyone I just didn't respond to! I appreciate every one of them, and it thrills me that people care enough to comment. So, thank you! Lots of love, lots of kisses.
> 
> Enjoy!

“I feel like this is my fault,” Keith confided to Shiro. “I know that sounds irrational, but...I can’t shake the feeling.”

His brother ran a comforting hand down his back.

The two of them were sitting in chairs at Lance’s bedside. Keith was bent forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin propped up on his fisted hands. Shiro lounged beside him, an open book on his lap. The steady beep of Lance’s heart rate monitor filled the air around them, and Keith heaved out a breath.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered to Lance. “I’m fucking sorry.”

After he, Pidge, and Hunk had found Lance on the bathroom floor, there had been a general scramble of panic what with making sure that someone told Shiro and Allura, and with figuring out who was going to ride in the ambulance to the emergency room with Lance. Keith had won that right (of course), and Pidge and Hunk had both gone to let the others know.

Once Lance had been cleared from the emergency room, he had been moved to the hospital room that the three of them were in now. He had woken up several times, though never for very long, and Keith was becoming increasingly anxious about it all, despite the doctors repeatedly reassuring him that Lance was going to be fine.

“Do they know what happened yet?” Hunk asked from the doorway. He and Pidge had ducked out to get some coffee, and Keith gratefully accepted the cup that was passed to him.

Keith took a small sip of his drink, then made a face as the hot liquid scalded his tongue. Leaning back in his chair, he said, “The last I heard, they have a suspicion but they don’t want to say anything definitive until he wakes up long enough to talk to us.”

Pidge snorted, taking a perch on Shiro’s knee. “Damn doctors.”

Keith tried to smile, but even he could feel how weak and pale it was.

Hunk looked at him sympathetically. “How are you holding up?”

Keith shook his head, looking down at his cup. “I don’t know. It’s not about me.”

Shiro poked his shoulder. “He’s your soulmate, bud. Frankly, I’d be more worried if you  _ weren’t _ acting...well, acting like you are.”

Pidge looked at Hunk, then reached out a hand to lace her fingers through his. “You’re not allowed to do this, just by the way.”

Hunk laughed at that. “Okay, I won’t.” 

This time, Keith’s smile was at least semi-genuine. “Thanks, guys. Really, just...thanks.”

They all made more or less the same face as they turned to look at him. It was Pidge who voiced what they were all clearly thinking. She had no hesitation about it, either, hopping off of Shiro before walking over to Keith, leaning down until he had no choice but to meet her eyes. “Hey, fuckface,” she said gently. “Are you completely dumb, or just stupid?”

Against his will, Keith felt a laugh bubbling up inside his chest. “Excuse me?”

“What Pidge means to say,” Hunk said hastily, coming forward to pull Pidge back. She resisted, but was ultimately no match for her much larger counterpart. “Is that there’s no reason to thank us. We love you both, you know? We’re not leaving you, and there’s no way we’re leaving Lance.”

Keith winced.

Shiro caught it, of course. “What was that for?”

“I appreciate it,” Keith said, albeit reluctantly. “I really do, and you all know that we--that Lance and I--”

Pidge reached out to flick his forehead. “Yeah, we know you love us.”

Keith blushed. “Right, okay. But, uh, how literally did you mean that part about ‘not leaving’?”

Shiro gave him some major side-eye. “Why?”

Keith sagged in his chair. “Obviously, we’re all worried, but it’s not fair to you three to expect that you’ll stay with him all the time at this point.” When an expression of mutinous protest crossed Hunk’s face, he hurried to add, “That’s not to say it wouldn’t be great if you came to visit us, but you all have your own lives. You should go home, get some sleep so you can go back to work tomorrow. I’m sure Allura is missing us.”

“You’re staying,” Shiro clarified.

“Yes,” Keith nodded. “For as long as I need to.”

A slow smile spread over his brother’s lips. “Somehow, I’m not surprised. That’s fine, Keith. We’ll come back later.” He looked to Pidge and Hunk, who both nodded after a moment of hesitation.

After several last goodbyes and brushing of fingers over various parts of Lance (who didn’t so much as stir, even when Pidge pinched his toe), the three of them filed out, leaving Keith to stare at the prone body of--in his unbiased opinion--the most important person in the world.

“Here we are,” he said, drawing in a deep breath and making a concentrated effort to pretend like everything was as fine and dandy as could be. “What a nice day today, right?”

He looked over at the window, which gave him a nice view of the dark of the descending night. He brooded at it for a moment (as was only appropriate), then turned back and scooted his chair closer to Lance’s bedside.

With a small, trembling sigh, he reached out and threaded his fingers through Lance’s unresponsive ones. “I miss you,” he whispered, then rolled his eyes. “Not to be cliché or anything with telling you all my deep, dark feelings while you’re out of it, but I feel like it’s important that I say this.” He paused to inhale, watching as Lance’s face turned toward him. Those damn blue eyes stayed closed, though, and Keith smiled sadly. “I know I’ve said it, but I really am sorry. Whether or not this is my fault, I’m sorry that I’ve let my relationship with Santos take over so much of my life recently. That wasn’t fair to everyone else, especially not you.” He looked down at their hands, admiring the way that their differing skin tones looked blended together. “I’m thinking of breaking up with him, actually,” he admitted, then scoffed. “If you can even break up with someone who you’re  _ still  _ not sure if you’re actually dating.”

“Why would you do that?” Lance asked.

Keith shrugged. “He doesn’t make me happy, not like--” He jolted, whipping his head up so fast he was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. “Lance?”

Lance smiled back at him, a tired but happy expression on his face. “Keith.”

Keith blinked furiously, doing his best to act like his eyes weren’t flooding with tears. “Uh, hey. Sorry, the others just left. I’m sure I can call them to come back, though. Hold on.” He started to rise from his chair to go to where his phone rested on the bedside table, but he was stopped by the gentle pressure of Lance squeezing his hand. 

He looked back, and Lance met his eyes with a small smile. “I’d actually like to just keep it to the two of us for a little while, if you don’t mind.”

“No, yeah, of course.” Keith sank back into his chair, eagerly raking his gaze over all of Lance’s features. “I’m really glad you’re awake, man.  _ Really  _ glad.”

Lance’s eyes drifted closed, but his grip on Keith’s hand stayed secure and strong. “I don’t know how much longer that’s going to last, honestly.”

Keith bit his lip. “Would you be willing to talk to a doctor real quick before going back to sleep?”

Lance frowned, opening his eyes again to focus on Keith. “Why? What’s going on?”

Keith leaned closer, letting his breath flutter over their joined hands. “I think we were kinda hoping you could answer that. The doctors have an idea, but they wanted to wait until you were awake until making an official diagnosis.”

Lance rolled his eyes, and the familiar expression was enough to ease some of the ache in Keith’s chest. “Are they allowed to do that? Damn doctors.”

Keith laughed quietly. “That’s what Pidge said.”

“She’s a smart kid." Lance looked up at him, his eyes soft. “You really need to stop apologizing, by the way.”

Keith grimaced. “I feel like this is my fault.”

To his surprise, Lance brought their hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against Keith’s fingers. Blushing, his eyes flew to Lance’s eyes, only to find him settling back against the pillows with a small smirk on his lips.

And now Keith was staring at his lips, and this was the entirely wrong place for this.

“Keith,” Lance said, as gently as his kiss. “I can hear what you’re thinking.”

Keith blushed deeper, which was a really unfortunate look for him. “Yeah, uh, the wall kind of collapsed when you did, and I...have zero desire to put it back up.”

Lance was smiling again, and Keith hadn’t realized how desperately he needed to see it. It was like a direct balm to his heart. “I think I can live with that.” He tugged on Keith’s hand, as if ensuring that he had his attention. “But, listen. What I was saying about this not being your fault? I’m right, and you’re wrong.”

Keith laughed.

They stayed like that, staring at each other, just drinking the other in. All the while, Lance’s thumb stroked over Keith’s knuckles reassuringly.

A throat clearing in the doorway finally pulled Keith’s attention away, and he watched somewhat warily as a familiar doctor came into the room. “Ah, Lance. It’s good to see that you’re awake.”

“This is Dr. Karp,” Keith told Lance. “He’s been looking after you.”

Lance smiled up at the doctor. “Hello.”

Karp smiled back down at him. “Hello. How are you feeling?”

Lance kept smiling, his eyes sliding over to Keith. “Better, thank you.”

Karp nodded, glancing down at the file he held in his hands. “Excellent. This is good timing on your part, actually, because I’m more than ready to put your partner out of his misery.”

Keith perked up at that. “You know what happened?”

Karp nodded again, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. It has a very simple treatment, too, so please don’t stress about that.”

Keith raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Karp gestured between Keith and Lance, his eyes lingering on their linked hands. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you two are soulmates, are you not?”

“Yeah,” Lance answered, his face softening. “For, what, twelve years now? Thirteen?”

Keith nodded. “Something like that.”

Karp  _ hmm _ ed. “And has something happened in your lives recently? Something that’s prevented the two of you from spending as much time together as you might otherwise.”

Keith nodded at that too, guilt biting at his heart. “Yes.”

Karp smiled gently. “Simply put, your bodies are dependent on each other. All soulmates share that, of course, but we’ve noticed in recent years that it becomes much more pronounced in those who spend extreme amounts of time together. This means that it’s something we’re more likely to see in older couples or pairs, but if you two met when you were young then I think it’s more than possible that it still happened.”

Keith held his free hand up. “Sorry, what is ‘it’?”

“For lack of a better name,” Karp said with a little wince. “We’ve taken to calling it the Untwined disease. The science between soulmates is extraordinarily complex but to grossly oversimplify, it boils down to the two of you becoming the two halves of a whole. If Lance here were to die, for example, Keith would likely fall into a catatonic state.”

Lance’s eyes opened wide. “I’m dying?”

Karp laughed. “No. I’m sorry, I’ve been told many a time that I have a tendency to run on the side of long-winded. What I’m trying to say is that whatever has caused you two to spend less time together recently occurred in such a way that your bodies simply weren’t prepared for the separation. Lance happened to be the first to fall victim to Untwined, but I suspect that if you had gone on as you were, Keith would have followed close behind.”

Keith gaped at the doctor, then at Lance.  _ I  _ told  _ you it was my fault. _

Lance scowled back at him.  _ No, I’m blaming Santos. That asshole. _

Despite his guilt and his worry, amusement snaked through Keith.  _ And who was it that wanted me to date him in the first place? _

Lance smiled innocently.  _ I have no idea. Who? _

Keith rolled his eyes, and Lance laughed.

Karp, who had been watching them with a small smile, cleared his throat again. “My suggestion for treatment? Go back to your old lifestyle. I understand if that’s not possible, but if that’s the case, then my official doctor’s orders are to ease back into whatever the change was  _ much _ more slowly.”

Keith tightened his grip on Lance. “That won’t be a problem, Doctor. I won’t be leaving his side until he has to physically chase me away.”

Lance’s eyelids slipped down, laughter dancing through his words and into Keith. “How forward of you.”

“I’ll let you rest,” Karp said softly. “You’re free to leave when you’re ready. They’ll take care of you at the reception desk.”

Keith stood, carefully detaching himself from Lance. He reached out to shake Karp’s hand, unable to stop the smile that burst over his lips. “He’ll be okay?”

Karp nodded, clasping his hand in a firm clasp. “Yes, just fine.”

Keith grinned. “Thank you.”

Karp winked. “Take care of each other.”

Lance waved from the bed, keeping his eyes firmly closed.

After the doctor left, Keith retook his seat next to the bed. “I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” he said after a moment of quiet.

“Me too,” Lance muttered. There was a beat, and then, “I’m glad it was me instead of you.”

Keith examined his best friend, laying there in a hospital bed surrounded by wires, and lied. “Me too.”

Lance’s lips curved in a knowing smile, and Keith leaned forward to twine their fingers back together.

 

The next week, they had a visitor at the library.

Keith was leaning against the information desk and watching Lance rush past him with an armful of books, an unusually concentrated look on his face, when he heard a quiet little cough. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with someone who made his stomach clench and his palms break out in sweat.

“Hey, Santos.” He said quietly.

_ Okay? _ Lance asked from wherever he had zoomed off to.  _ You feel weird. _

_ I’m fine, _ Keith replied, then added.  _ Santos is here. _

Lance sent an impression of him wincing.  _ You never did say why you were going to break up with him. _

The soft rumble of Santos’s voice pulled him away from responding. “Hi, Keith. Sorry for dropping in on you like this, but I wanted to talk to you.”

Keith nodded, glancing around them at the quiet library. “Sure, I have a minute.” He took a deep breath, bolstering his courage. “I’m sorry I’ve been AWOL this week.”

Santos smiled faintly, bracing himself against the desk. “I think I can guess why. I stopped by your place last week and Shiro was there. He told me that Lance was in the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded again, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, we had a bit of a scare, and...I don’t know. I guess I just--”

“Keith,” Santos said. “He’s your soulmate.”

Keith frowned. “I mean, he is, but we’re not romantically involved.”

Santos shrugged. “You’re not platonic, and we all know it. I can’t have any way of knowing, obviously, but I imagine that the most important person in the world to you being in a situation like that might, ah, dredge up some feelings.”

Keith couldn’t help his smile at the way Santos referred to Lance, mostly because he had thought the same thing not five days before. “I don’t know that I would go that far, but it did make me reevaluate things, yes.”

Santos leaned forward, running a gentle finger down Keith’s cheek. “Keith, we’re breaking up.”

Keith squinted against the twinge that went through his chest, then calmed as Lance sent him a wave of reassurance. “Can you answer something for me?”

Santos pulled back, although he didn’t go far. “Shoot.”

“Were we ever actually dating?”

Santos considered him for a moment in silence before his lips twisted wryly to the side. “I liked being with you, a lot. But I was hesitant about putting a label on it, mostly because of this exact thing.” His voice dropped, becoming almost conspiratorial. “I know you can’t see it yet, but everyone around the two of you can. No, Keith, we weren’t dating, because your heart isn’t mine to have.”

Keith absorbed that, then pushed himself forward and grazed his lips against Santos. “Thank you.”

To his relief, the other man didn’t ask him what for. He simply nodded, once, before stepping back and turning for the exit. As he left, Keith saw him hesitate like he might look back, but he just kept going.

Keith stared after him until Lance arrived in front of him, his eyes soft with sympathy. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Keith said thoughtfully, letting his eyes refocus on Lance. “I think I’ll miss him, but I also think I know as well as he does that we weren’t going anywhere with this.”

Lance tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Dinner tonight. On me.”

Keith smiled. “If you insist.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am aware that Keith is going to run out of air if he keeps sighing so damn much.
> 
> The plot should pick up next chapter, and the rest of the gang will be introduced then.
> 
> <3


End file.
